


When I Kissed The Teacher

by magicianparrish



Series: The Old Guard College/University AU [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Professor!Joe, Student!Nicky, Student!Nile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 06:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26468791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicianparrish/pseuds/magicianparrish
Summary: It should’ve been a walk in the park. Nile had done assignments like these a million times, and could practically do it in her sleep. Joe had assigned her to a man named Nicolò. He had been the man who Nile had run into on the very first day of classes. The man who never seemed to have any materials ready, and usually sat in the back in silence, never contributing anything. Nile had to school her face so her displeasure wouldn’t be seen through._________________________________________________________________________________________________________College au, where Nile is a student, Joe is a professor, and Nicky is also a student but drives Nile insane.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: The Old Guard College/University AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932727
Comments: 21
Kudos: 423





	When I Kissed The Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> New fic for this fandom! This idea came to me based on my own college experiences. (yes, it's named after that ABBA song, but like the version from Mamma Mia 2) I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> (Not edited or beta'd)

Nile wasn’t really sure what she had been thinking when she registered for this class last semester. It had been a bit of a mess because she had gotten swept up in a semester-long project for one of her graduate classes, which made her lose all sense of time. Because of that, she had forgotten to register for her classes at the appointed time, which made her go into a hellish back and forth with her advisor, who was known for being a terrible responder, to try and push herself into the classes needed. 

She had forgotten by the time May rolled around, and then she had an internship at one of the many museums in the city that took up all of her time between semesters. When the end of August came back around though, she finally looked at the schedule that she had created for herself. The schedule really wasn’t that bad at all, and she gave herself a mental pat on the shoulder for it. The only bad thing was that she had three, three-hour classes on Monday, two back to back until ten at night. The other students in her cohort were already dubbing it the “Marathon Monday”. 

But she had an upper-level art history class that was required for her to graduate, that was only Tuesdays and Thursdays in the middle of the day. It would be a nice reprieve for her. Nile loved art, and she loved learning about the history of it, which was why she was pursuing it in college, though she would have to figure out what to do with a degree like that. She figured she might go for the Ph.D. and then become a professor. Professors got paid pretty well, didn’t they? 

The class was simply named Islamic Art, and it was taught by Professor al-Kaysani. She had never actually taken a class with him, but she knew his name. People tended to either love him or hate him with no in-between. She had checked out his Rate My Professor page to try and gauge what to expect from him. He had an A rating, and apparently he was hot. People commented on his amazing lectures and didn't expect too much work from them, except for a few papers. Occasionally took them on cool field trips. Nile knew not to take it at face value, but she liked trying to figure out her professors' deal anyway. She did it for all her professors. 

When classes finally started, she survived her first Marathon Monday, which really was exhausting. She had ended up going to her last two classes in sweats and a t-shirt because she refused to be anything less than comfortable for six hours of back to back evening classes. By the time she had walked back to her apartment, it had been nearly ten-thirty at night, and she had fallen fast first on her bed and promptly passed out. 

She was thankful that the class wasn’t so early in the morning on Tuesday. Nile had been able to shower and get dressed like a normal person while making time to gather her necessary materials into her backpack. The day was nice out, nothing too hot or cold. She walked to the main campus and went to the little coffee shop in the student cultural center. There was already a long line filled with students looking for a cup of coffee or tea to help them make it through their classes. Nile ordered her regular, large coffee with two creams, and a blueberry muffin toasted. When she had taken her first sip, she allowed the warmth to fill her and ignored the burning of her tongue. She had needed that caffeine in her system. Her roommates said that she was mildly addicted, but what college student wasn’t to some degree? 

Nile walked out of the cultural center and onto the nice walkway the school had built last year. It connected a few buildings on the campus to the cultural center, which Nile was glad for because it shaved her walking time in half. Now instead of having to walk down to the first floor and out the back, all she had to do was use the walkway that connected her to the building she needed to be in. Plus it gave her a nice vantage point of the city and the campus. 

She entered the building and turned to look behind her for any students. She saw a tall man walking right behind her. He was wearing a white t-shirt and an olive green flannel over it with a baggy pair of jeans and hiking boots. His mouse brown hair was a little unruly, curling slightly below his ears which had small hoop earrings, and he had a good scruff on his face. Nile stood, holding the door out for him to take. When the man realized it, he started to jog, his eyes wide and a startling color; the color of seafoam. He came up to the door, and Nile relinquished it to him. 

“ _Grazie_ ,” he said in a softly accented voice. He gave a small twitch of his lips as he walked in. 

“Uh,” Nile gaped for a moment, “no problem.” The man was already gone though, using long strides to get to his destination. 

Nile shook her head to clear her thoughts. She looked down at her phone to remember what room she had to be in. This particular building was a maze of confusion and she had only stepped foot in there once before. She just followed the signs and the other students who had more confidence in where they were. When she found room 344, she pulled the door open to the classroom. 

It had no walls, which was a big bummer and there was a small desk at the front and a large computer that hooked up to the SMART Board, nestled in the middle of the wall surrounded by two whiteboards. The desks were lined up in rows that were cramped in the small room, students were already straggling in, taking their seats, still listening to music or taking out a book to read, or doing other homework on their laptops. Nile grabbed a seat towards the front and dropped her backpack to the ground. She sat up front mostly so she could actually see the board without having to whip out her glasses, and it also gave the illusion that she really cared about what she was learning. The more a professor saw her face, the more likely she’d get a better grade. That was just a fact. She spent the remainder of the little downtime, allowing the music to wash over her as she aimlessly checked her social media apps on her phone. 

When it hit eleven, she put her phone away into her backpack and got her materials ready. The professor still hadn’t shown up yet, but it wasn’t exactly uncommon for professors to be late to their own classes. At 11:05, the door swung open, causing Nile and the rest of her class to turn in their seats. The man that Nile had held the door open for before was there, as he shared a small smile to another who came in. He had a large messenger bag that he was gripping in his hand. He had light brown skin, and his hair was black and curly, and he was sporting an impressive beard. The man had kind dark brown eyes as he looked at his students, walking up the aisle towards the front. He wore a leather jacket with a hoodie underneath it and a pair of jeans that were very well fitted. Nile understood why the man had gotten a hotness grade factored in on his rate page. 

The man dropped his bag on the small desk and then turned on the computer and smartboard. Nile turned around to see the other mysterious man with the striking eyes take a seat at a desk too with a bottle of water in his hand. He didn’t have a backpack or anything with him, which Nile found odd but didn’t dwell on. 

“Sorry for the delay,” the professor said. He took out a stack of papers from his bag and started to pass them out to students who then passed them back. Nile took the syllabus gratefully. 

“I am Yusuf al-Kaysani, I usually teach regular art classes down in Meyers but I got suckered into teaching an art history class this semester, so you’ll have to bear with me,” he said with a small chuckle and a winning smile. 

Nile looked up from reading the syllabus, towards the professor. She already felt safe with him. He seemed kind. 

“You can call me Joe though. Professor al-Kaysani is too formal for my own tastes,” he continued. He waved the stack of papers left in his hands. “Did everyone get one? Good.” 

Professor al-Kaysani, or Joe, started class. They went over the syllabus together, he waved off the usual student conduct and expectations that they were required to put in by the school. 

He had just said: “You all know the drill by now. Don’t cheat, don’t plagiarize...blah, blah, blah.” 

The class had shared a laugh with him. As the class progressed the air seemed to ease, with the usual tension of the first day. Students always were tenser because they didn’t know what they were getting themselves into. And it was a good indicator to try and gauge what kind of professor they were going to have, and whether they should take their chances and drop before it was too late. Nile had a feeling she’d like Joe just fine. 

* * *

She figured out her routine for the semester fairly quickly. She still suffered through her Marathon Mondays, and sometimes she was able to muster enough energy when she got home to shove some ramen noodles into her before she passed out into her bed. Her other classes that weren’t those hellish ones, were nice. She had found time to meet with her adviser, a Frenchman in his early forties, lovingly nicknamed Booker. She bitched to him about her Mondays, which he always took with stride, and if he sometimes offered her a sip of whiskey for her troubles, then who was she to deny it? She was well over the legal age. 

Sometimes she was able to actually see her two roommates, and they would drink wine on Friday and watch old rom-com movies, while decompressing. It was a nice way to end the week. And she enjoyed going to Joe’s class every Tuesday and Thursday. By the second week, a few people had dropped the class, making it smaller. Nile preferred small classes because she liked to know the people she was working with. And an upper-level art history class did not have a lot of takers, to begin with. 

She liked the way Joe taught. He made things personal, and he always had props he brought in. He wasn’t very lecture heavy, and he usually only spent the first half of the class doing it, and allowing students to take notes. He then spent the second half doing a large group discussion about the readings he had assigned as homework and answering any questions they had. She had also appreciated that he knew everyone’s name by the third class. 

In the third week, he had assigned their first big assignment. It was a simple presentation in front of the class, on a topic they were covering in class and was picked out of a hat. He had also assigned partners to the task. It should’ve been a walk in the park. Nile had done assignments like these a million times, and could practically do it in her sleep. Joe had assigned her to a man named Nicolò. He had been the man who Nile had run into on the very first day of classes. The man who never seemed to have any materials ready, and usually sat in the back in silence, never contributing anything. Nile had to school her face so her displeasure wouldn’t be seen through. 

At the end of class, Joe had come up to her, placing a hand on her desk as she packed up her things. He gave her a kind smile. 

“Try to give him a chance,” he advised. 

Nile had openly gaped at him, feeling a flush of embarrassment cover her cheeks. Joe had only chuckled good-naturedly. 

“You hid your displeasure well, but I’m just very good at reading people is all,” he reassured her. “But I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by him. I paired you two on purpose, not because I want to torture you, but I think you’d do well together.” 

Nile swung her backpack over her shoulder, gripping the strap tightly. She raised an eyebrow at her professor. “If you say so.” 

Joe just shrugged his shoulder and nodded his head back. “He’s still here if you want to exchange contact information.” 

Nile looked back, and he was still there. He was standing up looking down at his phone intently. She sighed and walked up to him, and cleared her throat. He looked up from his phone, his eyes piercing. 

“Uh, hi,” she stumbled. “Nicolò, right?” 

“Just Nicky is fine,” he said in a soft voice. If Nile hadn’t been actively listening, she wasn’t sure if she would’ve heard him. 

“Right,” she said nodding slowly. “Nicky. I’m Nile, and we’ve been partnered for the project due next Thursday.” 

Nicky hummed nodding his head. Nile bit her lip and shoved her hands into her pockets for anything to do. God his eyes were hard to look at, she complained mentally. 

“Well, Joe suggested that we exchange some contact info so we can plan to meet up and work together.” 

Nicky didn’t say anything, just tilted his head to the side. Nile did not like this. She did not like this at all. She whipped out her phone and opened up her contacts and went to create a new one and held her phone out. 

“So maybe put your number in, and I’ll text you and you can put my contact in?” she offered. 

Nicky put his own phone in his jean pocket and took her’s out of her hand. He typed something in before giving it back with a small smile. 

“Uh, thanks. I’ll text you,” she said before making a hasty escape out of the class. 

As she walked out of the building she looked at the new contact on her phone. The name read Nicky di Genova and had his number and his school email. She sighed, putting in her headphones and blasting music to try and rid herself of thoughts of the awkward interaction.

* * *

To not seem too pushy, she waited to text Nicky until later that day. It was a simple message. 

_ Hey Nicky! It’s Nile from Joe’s class. Just wanted to message you to try and set a good time to meet up to work on it together. I can’t do Friday evenings or Monday at all, but I should be good to go the rest of the days in the afternoon. Let me know what works best for you. :)  _

She had hit send, and then tossed her phone next to her to try and finish a fifty-page reading she needed, and then do a 1500 word response. Grad classes really did suck sometimes. But the professor, Andy, ( _ just _ Andy, she said the first day with a hard glare as for no one to argue with her), was truly some kind of saint in disguise. Or some warrior angel come to life. She was tough as hell and expected nothing but the best you could give, but she knew what the fuck she was doing. And that went a long way. _ A long way _ . Nothing bothered Nile more than a professor who barely knew what they were doing. 

Nile managed to get the assignment done, and she then checked her phone. No message from Nicky. Which was fine, they had plenty of time. Some people don't answer their phones right away. It was fine. That was the mantra she played in her head. 

It became more of an issue, when by the time Monday rolled around that she still hadn’t gotten an answer from Nicky. She had even emailed him based on the one he gave her and got nothing. Nile checked her phone and messages, the blue bubbles haunting her. They weren’t even read. Just delivered. She scoffed and threw her hands in the air, not caring that she was in the middle of the hallway. 

“What the fuck man,” she said out loud. Some people looked at her, but they kept going on their way. 

As she sat through her first hellish three hours Monday night class, she found she couldn’t focus. She felt herself simmering in the anger of being left practically for dead with a project deadline looming. After being dismissed, and in the fifteen minutes between her classes, she looked at her phone again. Then in her anger, she typed out one more message before hitting send, and before she could regret it. 

_ What the fuck is your problem? _ Was what she said. It felt a bit cathartic to send the message. She felt like a little weight was pulled off her shoulders. By the time her second night class started, she found she was able to focus much more on the present. 

As she walked home for the night, she felt a  _ ping! _ She took her phone out of her pocket and looked at the notification that came from her Gmail account for school. She opened it up and saw that in her email was an Invite to Edit. Sent from Nicky’s account. There was nothing else added, besides the slideshow he had begun that already had some slides complete. It was beautiful looking; had all the info needed and plenty of photos to help prove their points. Nile quickly closed out of it, stuffing her phone in her pocket. She kicked a rock as hard as she could on the sidewalk. 

“That son of a bitch,” she cursed. “I’m going to kill him tomorrow.” 

Except he didn’t show on Tuesday. And when he did on Thursday, he volunteered them to go first, and then gave a beautiful presentation on his portion of the project, allowing ample time for Nile to do her part as well. When they had finished, Joe had given her a knowing smile, nodding as he took notes on his legal pad. Nile tried not to glare at the Italian man, but she had to begrudgingly accept a truce as they got a hundred on the assignment. 

* * *

Nile found she had a morbid curiosity and fascination with Nicolò di Genova. The man was like a ghost. He only showed up when he felt like it, and on days when there was some sort of exam or paper or project due. And it seemed that Nile was the only person who noticed, or really cared about his chronic absences. Nile couldn’t really justify skipping classes for fun when she was paying for her to be there. (Well she was on a very generous scholarship that paid almost all of it, but still.) Plus she didn’t understand why he would skip out on Joe’s class. Joe was amazing. Nile always felt she came out knowing more than when she entered, and she liked being in the man’s presence. She looked forward to being in Joe’s class. It really was the highlight of her week. 

Midterms were slowly coming up, and Joe had assigned them a paper to write. Nothing too intense or crazy, but he expected it to be at least seven to ten pages. Nile wasn’t excited to write a paper like that, but she could do it. He had laid out his criteria pretty clearly, even giving them the exact rubric he’d be using to grade them by so there were no stones left unturned. Nile thought she would kiss Joe for being so great. She had started it right as she got home but only made it past the introduction before getting swept off to a bar for Twofers with her roommates. 

She had spent most of Sunday doing Andy’s hell responses and then putting energy into some dumb assignment for one of her Monday classes. She set up an appointment with Booker to try and figure out what classes to plan for next semester. And to just catch up, she missed him. As she read the directions and rubric again for Joe’s paper, she found something she would want more clarification for. Just to be completely sure. Nile took out the syllabus from the first day and found his office hours. 

Nile somehow was able to squeeze some time in on Monday to head to Joe’s office. She would be there right at the start of his office hours. In and out quickly. Nile made her way to the Myer’s Art Building, which she had only been in to cut through for a shortcut to the cultural center. It was covered in art pieces made by students, and she knew upstairs there was a gallery and koi pond place to relax. She followed the signs to his office. On the door read Joe al-Kaysani on a small plaque, and there was a place for students to put notes and things for him below it. It was covered in stickers, and there was a large piece of paper reading Black Lives Matter and a flyer for the campus LGBTQ+ club and their meeting times. Nile hummed to herself looking at it. The door was open just a crack, but Nile did not dare knock. It didn’t seem like he was in. Perhaps he had a class he was coming from and forgot to lock his door. 

Instead, she looked at the time on her phone, 16:01, and then decided to just wait next to the door until he came by to invite her in. A few minutes later, she heard some voices. It seemed as if they came from inside Joe’s office. Nile felt her curiosity pique and she found herself taking a step closer to the door. One voice was definitely Joe’s, but she couldn’t identify the other. They were speaking to each other in another language. Italian perhaps? It sounded Italian, but Nile did not speak or understand it. She had taken French in high school. The other voice said something that made Joe laugh boisterously. 

“Come here,” he said in English. “Now you’re fine.” 

Nile felt her eyebrows raise and she looked to the ground at her shoes. She hoped she didn’t interrupt a private session with a student. The last thing she wanted was to see some poor sucker leaving Joe’s room with tear-stained cheeks and red eyes. The door opened wide, and to her surprise, it was Nicky who came out first. And he looked just fine. Joe followed and leaned against the door jam with his arms crossed. They hadn’t noticed her. 

“Still good for seven then?” he asked Nicky. 

“ _Sì_ ,” he replied nodding with a small smile on his face. Nicky then looked to the side and spotted Nile. 

His green eyes widened in surprise before he schooled his expression. Joe looked equally surprised and he glanced at his watch. He put a hand on Nicky’s shoulder. 

“All right then. Off to class with you,” he said before turning to Nile. “I am so sorry to have kept you waiting, Nile. I didn’t even realize it had reached four.” 

Nicky had silently walked away and out the hall. Joe had followed his movements before turning back to her with a big smile. He gestured for her to come in. 

“You could’ve knocked!” 

Nile smirked at the man before heading into the office. “I didn’t want to interrupt.” 

She took in the messiness of the room, how it was covered in books and various knick-knacks, and piles of papers and art projects to grade. There was a black hoodie that was thrown across a chair. It looked very lived in and very personal. Joe slumped into his leather chair behind his desk. 

“Well, then. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit today, Nile?” he asked. 

Nile smiled at the kind professor and took out the assignment page and her laptop. “I actually have a few questions.” 

* * *

Nile had gotten to class early and was sitting in her usual seat. To her surprise, Joe was already in, setting up for the day. When he had heard her come in, he had smiled and waved to her. She had just raised her cup of coffee, which caused him to chuckle. She had taken her jacket off and her headphones out, and put them away. 

“How was your weekend, Nile?” Joe asked. 

She shrugged her shoulders. “Eh. Same old, same old. And yours?” 

“Spent most of it grading those blasted papers, but otherwise nice. Got to hang out with some friends, which is always a good time,” he replied. 

“Cheers to that.” She had TAed for one of Booker’s classes last semester, and grading was definitely the worst part of that entire experience. According to Booker, “grading was the bane of his existence”, and thus pawned it off on Nile to do instead because he trusted her instincts. 

Other students had started to shuffle in and Joe greeted them with the same kind smile and small talk he did with Nile. She had taken out her phone to browse social media and kill some more time. Right before class started she heard Joe curse harshly in a language Nile wasn’t familiar with. She wondered how many he was fluent in. 

“Are you okay?” Nile asked carefully. 

Joe sighed and ran a hand through his beard. “Yes. I just thought I put the papers in my bag to hand back, but apparently I did not.” 

“That’s okay. I’m good with holding off on knowing my grade anyway,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

Joe waved his hand. “Oh you have nothing to worry about, you did fantastic on it. I even had someone else read it.” 

“You did?” she asked, her heart spiking. 

“Yes,” Joe nodded. “You were able to synthesize themes of religion to the topic you chose flawlessly. I just had to show my husband. He’s a history professor here, and his whole thing is religion. He was also very impressed.”

Nile felt her cheeks flush with the compliment. She shook her head, gaping in shock at Joe. “Uh, well, thanks I guess?” 

Joe chuckled. “You are too humble. Take some pride in your work! I know you are in graduate school now but are you looking to pursue a Ph.D.?” 

Nile shrugged. “It’s crossed my mind a few times, but I don’t know.” 

“Well, if you ever do, I would be more than happy to take you in as my advisee. Or really, any of my colleagues would. And I could write you a solid letter of recommendation to boot.” He added that with a wink. 

“Wow, thanks Joe,” she breathed. 

“Of course, Nile.” 

The class then began. It was more of a review now as finals were slowly approaching and the end of the semester was in sight. About halfway through the class, the door opened. Nile turned around to see it was Nicky. He was in a nice peacoat and a beanie was over his head, flattening some of his hair. For the first time all semester, she saw him with a bag on his shoulder. He walked through the aisles of students who all stared at him, and with a gloved hand took out a stack of papers with grades on them. He held them out for Joe to take. 

“I think these belong to you,  _ tesoro _ ,” he said. 

Joe did take them from his leather-gloved hand, and looked over at the top and nodded his head. “Yes, they are. Why do you have these, habibi?” 

Nicky shrugged and scratched at his scruff. “I thought they were mine when I grabbed them off the table this morning. But when I realized they weren’t, I came here to give them back. I knew you wished to hand them out today.” 

“Yes,” Joe said, looking up. “Thank you, Nicolò.” He then smiled and leaned in for a quick peck. It was nothing crazy. Just a moment, but Nile felt her jaw drop to the ground. 

Nicky then left as quickly as he came. The whole class was rendered speechless. Joe continued class as if nothing had happened. 

* * *

Nile practically slammed herself into Booker’s office door. The door was already open, and Booker at his desk, scrolling at something on his computer. 

“What’s got you all riled up?” he asked, his eyes not even leaving the monitor. 

She walked in further and flung herself into one of the chairs in front of his desk. Booker just raised his eyebrows in a silent question. The office was covered in books, and it wasn’t lost on anyone that Booker’s real name, Sebastien Le Livre, was literally translated to “the book”. The man lived up to his name. 

“Did you know that Joe was married to a history professor?” she asked. 

Booker scoffed and finally turned in his chair to face her. “You just figured that one out? It’s kind of hard to miss.” 

Nile threw her hands up in the air. “Hard to miss? I didn’t even know he was married until an hour ago!” 

Booker looked mildly concerned for her, and he rolled towards one of his drawers and opened it up. He took out a bottle of French scotch whiskey and then a small glass. 

“Do you need some of this? Because it looks like you’re having a crisis,” he said with his face pinched. 

Nile looked at her advisor with an amused glance. “Not everything is solved with alcohol,” she teased. 

Booker looked at his watch and then shrugged his shoulders and poured himself a glass. “Suit yourself. And I’m done for the day so no judgment.” Nile snorted at that. 

He took a sip and then leaned forward putting his elbows on his desk. “So, what’s the big deal about finding out Joe is married to a history professor?”

Nile raised her eyebrows. “The big deal is I thought this guy was just some student in the class. That didn’t care because he periodically skipped, and when I had to work with him on a project totally left me hanging until he sent out a stupid invite to edit for a PowerPoint he had created at ten-thirty at night leaving me to scramble to do my half of it just a few days before it was due to be presented! I thought he was an idiot, not a professor with a Ph.D. And Joe had him read one of my papers! So now he thinks I’m the idiot!” she ranted. 

Nile felt her heart hammering against her chest. She felt out of breath by the time she finished ranting. Booker just grimaced, hissing between his teeth before he took another sip of the scotch. 

“Damn kid.” 

“That’s all you have to say?” she asked. 

Booker gestured with his hands and shrugged. His eyes wandered for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. 

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing. Nicky doesn’t think you’re an idiot.” 

“How would you know?” 

“Because if he thought you were an idiot, he wouldn’t shut up about it. We all like talking about the idiots in our classes because they give entertaining stories.” 

“You’re  _ friends _ with him?” she demanded. 

“Hard not to be. When you’re friends with Joe, you become friends with Nicky too. Just the way it is. And I also know you aren’t an idiot because I know you. You wouldn’t have gotten this far if you didn’t know what you were doing. And I wouldn’t have let you TA for me if I thought that too.” 

That made Nile feel better. She let Booker’s words wash over her and comfort her. But she had another question. 

“Do you know why Nicky posed as a student?” she asked. 

Booker laughed into his cup, mirth in his eyes. “He likes to do that occasionally. He’ll mess around and register for one of our classes. Usually Joe’s. I think he likes the surprise and shock students have when they realize he kissed the teacher. And then realize that he’s married and works here. He does it every few years.” 

“That is so stupid,” Nile said laughing. Booker started to laugh as well until they were both wiping tears. 

“But it’s funny, so he’ll keep doing it. Now, I have been told to extend an invite to you to join me and my colleagues for drinks next Friday at Copley’s. Something about convincing you to apply for the Ph.D. program here?” 

Nile groaned. “Was this Joe’s doing?” 

“Actually it was Andy’s,” Booker said. “But it seems that we’re all gunning for you as our advisee. So…?” 

She leaned back in the chair, putting her hands behind her head. “Sure, why not. I want to see how you all are together. And as long as you’re buying.” 

“You’d have to take that up with Andy. But she loves you, so I don’t think that’d be a problem.” 

“That’s good to know. I have some words for Nicky and Joe I’d like to share.” 

Booker snorted. “Now, I’d like to see that.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This idea had been circulating in my head for days. I hope I wrote them all well, but I had a lot of fun writing this. 
> 
> Drop some comments and kudos below! Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
